


Moments

by TheUsualSuspect



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 06:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUsualSuspect/pseuds/TheUsualSuspect
Summary: A series of unrelated drabbles because there is nowhere near enough Neric here.I’ll try to avoid angst and just keep it fluffy, but I’m a fan of the hurt/comfort tag so we’ll see where we get then.





	Moments

They were sitting on the beach, just after night fall. Watching as the last purples and oranges of the sunset disappeared behind the horizon. They were content,  
Eric’s back resting against the blanket, and Nell’s head resting against his chest. Their hands clasped together between them. 

Summer breathed all around them, warm air still finding its way to caress them, even in the shadows of twilight. Everyone else on the beach ignored them, minds filled with the measurements of two more miles to go on their jog, or others chasing after their dogs, or surfers pulling their boards in, calling it quits as the final light petered out.

Eric could feel Nell’s pulse in her hand. Thrumming away steadily, beating out her rhythm. That which was uniquely hers, imprinting the lines of her palm, her finger tips, into his skin forever more. To feel the life force of another through their interlocked hands left him with that which amounted to pure joy. He closed his eyes, living only through their touch, subconsciously, he started to hum. 

Nell heard it, and slowly, as he continued the soft melody, she began to realise the song and she felt her lips turn into a smile. 

“And please say to me,” he sang, his voice soft and slow, “You’ll let me hold your hand. Now let me hold your hand. I want to hold your hand.” His eyes were closed, people relied too much on sight and in doing so ignored the other senses.  
“And when I touch you I feel happy, inside.” In this moment he existed in the sound of lyrics. He existed in the touch of his hand against hers; in the sand digging into his heels; in the sea breeze breaking over them; in the coco- mango of her hair.  
“Its such a feeling that my love. I can’t hide, I can’t hide.”  
“I can’t hide,” they harmonised.  
Nell readjusted herself to lay her head on his shoulder and admire his profile as they kept singing, “yeah you, got that something. I’ll think you’ll understand.” His eyes were closed, and a wide smile was spread across his face. Like he was kept in a particularly lovely dream. “When I say that something I want to hold your hand.” She moved her other hand to cover his. “I want to hold your hand. I want to hold your hand.” As he finished, Nell placed a kiss on his cheek. She shuffled off him and turned on her side to face him, pulling one of the small pillows under her head to prop her head up.

“Well that was very 1960s of you, and very gentlemanly.”  
Opening his eyes he turned to face her.  
“You know with the whole ‘hand holding’ aspect,” she continued.  
“And they say chivalry’s dead.”  
Nell laughed and rolled her eyes. Eric still couldn’t imagine a world where this reality existed. A world where this firebreather of a woman lay next to him, the only person he knew with enough flame to light up a room or burn it down, and she was so beautiful. The moon shined back in her eyes, making them look impossibly wide and gazing up into his. 

He reached out and touched her cheek. She instantly softened.  
“What?” she asked.  
He didn’t answer in words, instead with his lips. Leaning in to fit them against Nell’s, a sensation, that everyday became more familiar. No longer trapped in the surprise of the moment, just living in the moment itself. The warmth from her shoulder rested under his hand, and hummed with each touch, a lingering heat. She’d spent so long telling herself to resist because if it fell apart the fallout would be nuclear, but every time she felt him near her or when she kissed him, it had slowly become the most intoxicating gesture. 

And later that night when they were walking back to Nell’s car; hands swinging between them, finally, feeling the cool front draft through for the night, everything felt settled. Ops may be their place in the world; saving America, but this was their comfort blanket. Just leaning against each other, feeling the life radiating from each other, they were alive.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the quality and length will improve / fluctuate. This is literally a sample plate.


End file.
